


How to Love a Mockingbird

by taggianto



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Wingfic, preening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 15:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17144099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taggianto/pseuds/taggianto
Summary: Some guys are weird about their wings being touched, but Sasha and Tyler are both tactile people. So when Sasha notices Tyler struggling to preen what looks like a partial molt after a particularly brutal overtime win against the Bruins, he approaches him.





	How to Love a Mockingbird

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Feileacan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feileacan/gifts).



It starts out as a buddy thing. One of them will have their wings out in the locker room and the other will just casually tug out loose feathers or straighten crooked ones. Some guys are weird about their wings being touched ( _Jamie_ ), but Sasha and Tyler are both tactile people. So when Sasha notices Tyler struggling to preen what looks like a partial molt after a particularly brutal overtime win against the Bruins, he approaches him.

“I help?” he asks, nodding to Tyler’s wings with raised eyebrows.

“What, you won’t help me with my skates, but you’ll help with my wings?” Tyler asks with a joking smile.

Sasha rolls his eyes. “Can reach skates without my help but fine, if you don’t want…” he says with an exaggerated frown.

As Sasha expected, that gets Tyler laughing. “Alright, alright, if you insist.” He grins and slowly tucks his wings away. “But not here, come on back to mine, the boys miss you.”

***

Sasha’s been to Tyler’s new house a few times now, and it’s always so… Tyler. Bright and open and filled with the most random stuff that somehow manages to create cohesion instead of chaos. Quite the contrast to Sasha’s place, which is small and overflowing but cozy in just the way he likes it.

Of course, the first thing he does when he gets there is get mobbed by three very excited, but very well behaved labrador retrievers. They sit patiently (well, mostly - Gerry is wagging his tail so hard his entire body is shaking) and wait for Sasha to kneel down to them before smothering him in doggy kisses.

“Told you they missed you,” Tyler says as he rounds the corner into the entryway. He’s shirtless, his wings already fully out and folded along his back. It’s only because of the years and years of Sasha training himself not to look that he doesn’t linger on Tyler’s abs. That doesn’t mean he doesn't notice them, of course. It’s Tyler. The man is cut, and he knows it, is unashamed to flaunt it.

“I miss them too,” Sasha says, rubbing enthusiastically at Marshall’s scruff. “And Makar, he always ask - when we see puppies again, papa?”

Tyler’s smile goes softer at the mention of Sasha’s son, and Sasha has to look away quickly, giving his attention to Cash with one last pat before standing up. “So, wings?”

“Yeah, follow me, I figure we can go in the den, watch the Islanders game from last night. You need anything? Wing combs or whatever?”

Sasha shakes his head as he follows Tyler through his house. “Nah, I prefer just use my hands.” Tyler turns around and waggles his eyebrows and Sasha rolls his eyes.

They get themselves situated in the den, Tyler on an ottoman in front of Sasha, who’s in an overstuffed leather chair. Tyler pulls up the game and spreads his wings, and Sasha starts methodically preening them. He begins with the primaries and their coverts, soft white and mockingbird grey with the occasional fleck of Victory Green that had shown up once Tyler had gotten the A. They’re generally in good shape, just a few loose feathers that come out, which he sets aside in case Tyler wants to give them to the front office to sell.

Tyler’s attention is mostly on the game, analyzing plays and rewinding to watch them over and over again. Sasha starts on the secondaries then, the marginal coverts with one or two bright red Canadian feathers, the dark matte black of the raven that Tyler still carries from Boston, and then down to the luminous feathers that came from winning gold for Canada at Worlds. As he works them, Tyler relaxes further and further, the tension falling from his shoulders.

The goal horn sounds from the screen and Sasha looks up to see the play, which means he’s not quite watching where his hands are going until he hears a sharp intake of breath from Tyler. He looks down and his hands are buried in the soft, nickel-silver of Tyler’s scapular feathers.

Sasha panics and immediately pulls his hands away. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to do that, you know I shouldn’t - I mean I wouldn’t, I’m so sorry, I mean, I’m not--”

“Woah! Rads, buddy, calm down. I don’t speak Russian, remember?”

Sasha takes a deep breath and tries to clear his head. “Sorry. I-- not looking. Didn’t mean to.”

Tyler shrugs. “Hey man, it’s okay.” His tone is light but something in his eyes is… almost wistful. “I know most guys aren’t comfortable with that, no big.”

Sasha should just take the out. He should take the out, pretend that the soft feathers between his fingers weren’t one of the best things he’s ever felt, that the sound Tyler had made hadn’t sent shivers down his spine. But he glances at Tyler’s wings, still spread out before him, and the scapulars are all ruffled now, and all Sasha wants to do is run his hands through them and see if he can make Tyler make that noise again.

He’s terrified to say it, but at the same time - this is Tyler. He’s arguably his best friend on the team, surely he can trust him with this?

“I, um. I could, if…” Curse this useless fucking language. In Russian, he could be suave about this, playful, teasing, flirty. In English he feels like a bear in a china shop. He lets out a huff of frustration.

Tyler’s pulling away now, and no, that’s not what Sasha wants at all. “Really, it’s cool. No big deal, okay? I’ll just--”

“I want,” Sasha finally says, and Tyler stops, stares.

“You, uh… you want?” Tyler blinks.

Sasha takes a deep breath. “You. I want--” He reaches, tentative, for Tyler’s wings again, and, when he doesn’t move away, buries his fingers in the soft, silver down.

“Oh fuck,” Tyler says as his eyes flutter closed.

Sasha continues to massage the sensitive skin beneath Tyler’s feathers while Tyler makes these little hitching breaths that slowly turn into moans. He can’t tell if Tyler’s getting hard from this, but Sasha certainly is. He’s suddenly too far away and wearing far too much clothing. Pulling his tshirt off over his head, he moves so that he’s kneeling behind Tyler on the ottoman, knees on either side of his waist. Before he knows it, his own wings are out and spread.

He pulls Tyler flush to his chest, feels the way the soft feathers ripple and shift against bare skin. “Tyler.. Tyler, can I…”

“Yeah, please. Fuck, Rads, touch me.”

“Sasha,” he growls into Tyler’s ear.

“Oh, Jesus, _Sasha…”_

That does it. Sasha wraps one arm around Tyler’s chest, holding him close while the other snakes down to palm at his cock, still trapped in his sweats. He doesn’t wait long before shoving them out of the way and getting his hand onto him. He’s leaking already, precum smeared around the head as Sasha jacks him, quick and tight. “So gorgeous, like this,” he says, licking a line up the side of Tyler’s neck.

“Oh, shit, I’m--” Tyler stiffens just as Sasha bites down on his neck and that sends him over, shooting up his stomach. He only takes a few seconds to come down before he’s pulling away from Sasha.

“What...?”

“Shh, please, let me…” Tyler says and _oh_ he’s sliding off the ottoman onto his knees, turning around and looking up at Sasha with wide eyes.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Sasha swears and he’s not sure if it comes out in English or Russian but Tyler must get the gist of it because he’s already pulling at Sasha’s sweats. Getting them down just enough to let his cock spring free, Tyler swallows Sasha’s length all at once. “Not gonna last…”

Tyler just doubles down on his efforts, bobbing his head and sucking hard. Sasha’s hands go to his head of their own volition and then his wings are wrapping around the both of them, gray and white and gold and bronze feathers that shiver with each pull of Tyler’s mouth.

“Tyler… Tyler, _solnyshko,_ please, I’m…” Tyler sucks and looks up through his eyelashes and Sasha is gone, spilling into Tyler’s mouth for what feels like an eternity.

\---

Later, when they’ve managed to clean themselves up and crawl into Tyler’s massive bed because “Come on, dude, it’s like, after midnight, I’m not gonna kick you out,” Sasha allows himself to relax into the feeling of Tyler’s head pillowed on his chest. Marshal snuggles into his other side and Cash flops across their legs and it’s a good thing Tyler has a massive bed.

Sasha runs his thumb along Tyler’s shoulder absently, which causes Tyler to hum happily. Sasha smiles at him. “Never done that before,” he admits.

Tyler looks up with wide eyes. “Oh shit, were you a virgin?”

Sasha smacks him. “No! Idiot, never with wings. I have son, remember?”

“Oh,” Tyler says, a little sheepish. “I have, before. With a couple guys, but yeah, not a lot.”

“Jamie?”

To Sasha’s surprise, Tyler bursts out laughing. “Oh, oh god no…” He rubs at his eyes, smile wide. “No, no, our Benny is _tragically_ straight. You wanna know what he said when I came out to him?”

“What?”

Tyler does his best ‘Jamie’ voice. “‘Uh… congrats?’” They both chuckle for a while, then Tyler gives him a speculative look. “What about you?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you come out to anyone?”

Sasha tenses, then sags, shaking his head slowly.

“No one?” Tyler asks, and there isn’t judgement in his tone, just kindness and maybe a little sadness.

“Dasha, she guess, but… no.”

“I’m guessing that’s the reason for…”

Sasha nods. “We both agree, for the best.”

“That sucks, man.”

Sasha shrugs. What can he say? It does suck. “Is what it is. At least I still get to have Makar."

“Hey, Sasha, I get it. It’s okay.” Tyler shifts, puts his arm across Sasha’s chest and pulls him in a little bit. Sasha goes, suddenly exhausted. “I get it. It’s not-- it’s not safe for you to say something.”

Sasha nods and scoots down so that he can press a soft kiss to Tyler’s lips. At least for now, surrounded by Tyler and his four-legged children, Sasha feels safe.


End file.
